April 16, 2009

Shine Down On Me

Ever tenderly she held the child in her arms as she rocked. The familiar song like a lament rose from the depth of her tortured soul. “ You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”
“If I am your sunshine, then why am I so cold, mommy?” came the weak little voice.
“You are cold! Let me warm up your blanket in the clothes dryer.” As she climbed the steps to reach the dryer, her heart broke. There lay her son, her only child, in the throes of death. A sense of desolation that shook her entire being overcame her. As the familiar sound of the spinning dryer drowned her sobs, she shook like the amber leaf hanging by a thread in the autumn wind. “ He cannot see me like this. Only hope will keep him alive. And there is hope. Yes! There has to be hope.”
“Mommy, are you coming back?” At the sound of the frail voice, she quickly gathered all her strength. A quick prayer breezed through her lips. “ Dear God, yes, give us hope and strength and the wisdom to know what to do as this drama unfolds. Your Will be done.”
Lately she had become prayerful. She had not prayed for years, but her son’s illness had changed her.
Surely there was a God and He didn’t want her son who had just been given her! Eight short years! Why be born at all?
As she opened the dryer door, she saw the light! Light! Heat! Sunshine!
Transfixed, she stared incomprehensibly at the light inside the dryer. Another light exploded in her mind. In contrast to the feeling of helplessness that had possessed her a few minutes earlier, she was now afire. With renewed vitality, she grabbed the warm blanket and ran down the steps to where her son awaited her. Wrapping him up tightly, she held his weak body against hers. Songs, beautiful songs, new joyful lyrics mounted from her tender soul. Rocked to sleep in the warm cover of his mother’s love, the boy soon forgot the world around him.

On the computer she began her search. “Light+cancer” she wrote in the search box. “Surely, God has given us the means to heal ourselves. We just have to access it.” “Ask and you shall receive” played the thought in her head.

Her spirit would plunge in the dark dungeon of despair. The song, the miraculous song always rekindled the flame. Every spare moment was spent on her urgent search. Doctor after doctor repeated the refrain that light therapy is for SAD. “ But we are sad”, she would retort.

A little bit of light would brighten our days. Secretly, she harboured the thought that light would bring a cure. After all, why had she been given this sudden insight?
She knew time was of the essence. The time was now! The light arrived on a dreary gray day. Little by little, mother and child experienced the light.

The child had not been outside for such a long time. Like a beautiful flower not receiving sunshine, her son was wilting. Her search led her to sight after sight. The information highway was long indeed. Endless!

“ When I am sleeping, the angels sing with you, mommy. Don’t stop singing when I am asleep!”
Scintillating joy of love, intertwined with deep sadness, brought up a silent tear.
No longer fighting the beckoning sleep that often eluded him, the child now slept soundly.
Mother sang! Mother invented song! Song about a little boy getting better. Song about an eight year old playing outside! Song about a next birthday! As she sang, she believed. So did the boy.
A smile had now returned to the hollowed cheeks. His frail little body started moving to the endless refrain. One common thread was spun through each song. A boy would be healed of cancer.
“ Mother, will you read me the story of the boy who went to the circus?”
At that moment, mother saw that God’s hand had touched her child. And so, with a circus book in hand, as she turned the pages, a story was born. A story of Joey, the eight year old who was healed of cancer. A story of Joey at the circus on a beautiful summer day.
The doctors recognized that Joey had gained weight and strength. They saw the gleam in his big brown eyes. “He is in remission” they cautioned.
Joey soon spread the word. A beautiful light and the songs of angels had made him feel better.
Today, Joey is a doctor who works with cancer patients. He often stops and reads to his patients the now famous books written by his mother. He does not hesitate to join the familiar lyrics of the angels’ voices that echo through the childrens’ ward.
Ah, yes, there is light! Lots of light! “Where there is light, there is hope“, reads the inscription at the entrance of the building.